


Less a Little Scandal

by MerHums



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bonding, Developing Relationship, Drug Use, M/M, Made Up medical conditions, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes Feels, Pack Dynamics, Period-Typical Homophobia, Secrets, Victorian Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 21:57:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12308637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerHums/pseuds/MerHums
Summary: Mycroft and Sherlock have moved to London, pretending to be bonded to protect them both. What happens when they both find someone they want to love?





	Less a Little Scandal

Mycroft raised his head at the knock on the door. 

“Message, sir.”

He took the paper handed to him with a sigh, reading and nodding. “Pull around a carriage.” 

The servant nodded and left quickly. Mycroft reached down, opening the secret drawer in his desk and replenishing his false alpha scent before pulling on his coat, gloves, and scarf, grabbing his umbrella on the way out.

**  
Greg looked up at the alpha coming into the station. “Mister Holmes?” 

“Yes, that’s me,” Mycroft replied, looking at the beta through the clouds of cigar smoke and the dim lighting of the station. “I understand you have my omega.” 

“Yes. He was in an...unsavory part of town and tripped over my murder investigation. Started claiming any idiot could solve it. Was afraid he might be a bit hysterical so I brought him back here.”

“Yes, well, he does have unusual interests, and I wouldn’t be terribly surprised if he was in fact able to solve it.” Mycroft tapped his umbrella gently. “Would you mind releasing him into my care? He shouldn’t be kept here, we’re trying to get him to catch. Not good to be in such a stressful environment.”

“Of course, sir. I can look into the leads he provided.”

“You may contact me if you need more information,” Mycroft said. “I’m sure he enjoyed himself. May I take him home now?” 

“Certainly sir, this way.” Greg couldn't help but notice the intelligent but cold eyes the alpha had. He led him to an office and opened the door. “Here you are.”

Sherlock huffed and handed over a piece of paper. “In case you forgot what I told you.”

Mycroft hid an amused smile. “Come along, Sherlock. Thank you, Inspector.” 

“You're welcome. Here's my card if you need anything else, sir.”

“Thank you.” Mycroft led Sherlock out to the carriage. “Would you care to explain how you stumbled upon a crime scene?” 

“I was in the area,” said Sherlock evasively, smoothing his irritating dress. 

“Oh Sherlock, honestly. We both know that isn’t true.” 

Sherlock huffed. He looked out the window. “There's an opium den.”

“Sherlock,” Mycroft said quietly, bile pooling in his stomach. “You can’t. You know the dangers.” 

Sherlock curled up. “It's not as if I'm going to get pregnant.”

“Not from me,” Mycroft said. “But others, Sherlock. I cannot watch you all hours of the day. I cannot protect you. That is why we are doing this, all of this. To protect you.” 

“It's stifling at home. Boring.”

“Then we’ll find something to keep your mind occupied. I know you don’t like it. Perhaps the inspector. He seemed at least willing to listen.” 

“He found you attractive.”

“And we both know that that will not be discussed anymore.” 

Sherlock lapsed into silence, eyes fixed on the passing city. It wasn't fair. He was a virtual prisoner as an omega, but faking a marriage to his brother allowed him more freedom than most, and also covered his brothers attraction to male betas like himself. With the death of their parents this was the safest arrangement for both of them. But they were also equally trapped, even he could see that. 

“We should renew the bond bite tonight,” Mycroft said quietly as the carriage arrived outside their home. “It’s fading.” 

“I’d noticed.” Sherlock alighted from the carriage, going in ahead of his brother, propriety be damned. “Do you really think he’d let me work with him?” Sherlock asked once they were both safely inside.

“I think he may,” Mycroft replied. 

“I’d like that,” admitted Sherlock. “I’ll be in my rooms.” He flounced up the stairs.

Mycroft sighed, and went to see about supper. 

**

Sherlock was in bed later that night when Mycroft came to him. He knew he wasn’t what Mycroft really wanted, but part of him was glad he could find some comfort.

Mycroft lit a candle on the bedside table, crawling next to his brother without a word.

Sherlock turned and curled up in his arms, also silent, feeling Mycroft moving the collar of his shift so he could bite him again. 

Mycroft bit down, feeling sick as he marked his brother, caused him the pain that a beta would biting an omega. 

Sherlock closed his eyes, not letting any sound escape, though he couldn't help the stiffness of his spine, the wrongness of Mycroft’s bite. It hurt because someone not an alpha bonding him left his hormones with nowhere to go, the chemicals that should be mixing with his alpha instead sizzled in his veins. It hurt because he knew Mycroft took no pleasure in this, but continued to do so because cold logic told them both it was the best, safest, course of action. It hurt because Mycroft deserved more then him, deserved to find someone that could make him smile, not sigh with frustration, someone that wouldn’t feel trapped in a life and a lie. But that could never be. Even if Mycroft found a lover, it was still illegal, still not done. Sex and bonding were only for procreation, anything else was uncivilized at best, depraved at worst. If the truth of his inclinations were ever discovered he could be killed or worse. And that would leave Sherlock all alone, an omega with no one to shelter him.

Mycroft pulled back and Sherlock snuggled deeper into his arms, ignoring the tears pricking his eyes.

Mycroft pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s forehead, and closed his eyes. “Sleep, brother mine. I’ll contact the Inspector in the morning for you.” 

“Thank you My,” Sherlock said softly, trying to find sleep, though it took a long time to come.

**

Mycroft met the Inspector a few days later. “Inspector Lestrade. I’m pleased that you’ve decided to meet me.” 

“Not at all Mister Holmes. How is your mate?”

“He is fine, thank you. I was wondering if you’d be willing to do me a favor.”

“He was correct about that case,” said Greg, with a small smile. “He wants to help out?”

“He does indeed. I would like to find him a hobby, something to keep his mind occupied and himself out of the house but still safe under the guidance of a trustworthy beta.” 

“My bosses probably won’t like it, but it’s fine. I know that omegas aren’t all brainless and spineless. He’s got intelligent eyes, as do you.”

“I did choose him for a reason,” Mycroft nodded, with a tight smile. “He’ll be delighted to hear he can help.” 

“Would sending over some case files be a good start? It’ll be difficult to let him onto scenes, but if he can prove himself from the files it’ll be easier.”

“Yes, that should work very well,” Mycroft replied. “I’ll give you my address, and they can be delivered at any time. The servants will be sure he gets them. Thank you, Inspector.” 

“You’re welcome Mister Holmes.” Greg smiled a little brighter, wishing he could get the other man to relax a bit.

“I’ll take my leave then,” Mycroft said. “My work is waiting.”

“Of course, sir. I’m sure you’re a very busy man.”

**

Mycroft walked into the club, one of the servants leading him back to the dining area.

Greg was just sitting at a table, feeling rather out of place. Normally Richard would be here but his elder brother had cancelled at the last minute. Maybe he could eat quickly and go. 

Mycroft slowed as he passed by the Inspector, looking awkward and unhappy at a place that was a bit above his class. “Ah. Inspector Lestrade. Are you dining alone?” 

Greg was glad to see a familiar and slightly friendly face. “Yes. My brother cancelled. Care to join me?”

“Well, I am supposed to be dining with another, but he hasn't shown either, so certainly.” 

“Thank you, sir,” said Greg, careful to remember his place.

Mycroft signaled the waiter as he sat. “Do you know what you want?”

“I've always enjoyed the beef here.”

“That will do.” Mycroft ordered for them both, including a bottle of wine.

“Thank you,” said Greg. “So, my brother is in banking. What do you do?”

“I am simply a minor government official,” Mycroft replied. 

“Still. Sounds important.”

“Hardly. I deal mostly with papers. Nothing like your career.”

Greg chuckled. “There's a lot of paperwork for us too.”

“Yes, but your paperwork is less bureaucratic nonsense and more solving crimes.” 

“When we can. London is a big place.”

Mycroft smiled, and then sat back as their wine was delivered. 

“Have you lived here long?”

“I only recently moved here with my omega after the death of my parents. He’d been living with them after the death of his own guardian, an elderly aunt, and I commuted from the city for his heats.” 

“It's good of you to take care of him. Wish you luck on the pups. I don't have children myself.”

“You are bonded though?” Mycroft asked. 

“My wife and I are both beta. Didn't get the second gender.”

“Ah, I see.” Mycroft nodded. “Well, I wish you luck on children anyhow.” 

“Thanks.” She didn't want kids but that wasn't the kind of thing you told strangers. Besides, even if she got pregnant it probably wouldn't be his. 

Mycroft poured the wine, passing Greg a glass. “Here's to family then,” he said, raising his in a small toast. 

Greg couldn't help a bit of sadness in his smile. “To family.”

Mycroft caught the emotion on Greg’s face, but let it lie as their food appeared. 

“It is nice to see you,” said Greg, cautious. 

“The same to you, Inspector. I hope Sherlock is being of use.” 

“He truly is. He’s brilliant, that much is obvious.”

“Yes, though we only bonded recently, I've known him for quite a long time. Family friends. He's always been brilliant.” Mycroft smiled. “Though he does tend to get into a bit of trouble.” 

“A mind like that in an omega body, I’d imagine so,” said Greg, keeping his voice low.

“More than you know,” Mycroft admitted. “Which is why I'm happy he is with trustworthy folk such as yourself when I cannot be there.” He hesitated. “I'm sure you know this is not to go farther than between you and I, but our bond was a matter of convenience. He needed the security of an alpha”. 

Greg found himself oddly relieved. “I understand. The things omegas must do to even try to make their way in society…” he shook his head.

“It is a tragedy,” Mycroft said in agreement. “Utterly unfair.” 

“I see things on the streets…” he shook his head. “Probably not a conversation for lunch at a club like this, but people will do what they must to survive.”

“And Sherlock is certainly a survivor. Another reason I like having him in hand, close and protected.” 

Greg nodded. “I will keep him safe whenever he’s with me. I can promise that.”

“I do trust you, Inspector. And if you would...please keep him from the opium dens. He has more than a passing fancy with them.” 

“Of course. Thank you for letting me know that.” Greg smiled at him again, captivated by the blue eyes. Ah, the things he could never have.

“Thank you for not letting such a vice cloud your judgement of him.” Mycroft smiled almost subconsciously in response to Greg. 

Lovely smile. “You're more than welcome.” He took a sip of wine, watching his companion. 

By the end of the night, climbing into his carriage, Mycroft knew that he was in a great deal of trouble. The entire way home was spent thinking about the Inspector, imagining things that weren't appropriate for mixed company, though Mycroft attempted to stop himself, failing quite quickly, and though he wouldn't admit it, happily. “Sherlock?” He called as he entered the house. “We need to speak.” 

Sherlock came out of the drawing room, a little bit drawn from the laudanum he'd taken earlier. “Yes?”

“You're high,” Mycroft said, keeping his voice down.

“Not much. That isn’t what you wanted to talk about.”

“No it isn't but that doesn't change the fact that once again, you are high, Sherlock. This has to end,” Mycroft said, taking his arm and leading him back into the drawing room. “Where is it?” 

Sherlock huffed. “The doctor says it’s fine for a high strung omega.”

“You're not high strung, you're addicted,” Mycroft hissed. “You are better than this, Sherlock. If you continue, the Inspector won't work with you any longer.” 

Sherlock blanched. “He wants to work with me?”

“Yes. So I will ask you once more. Where is it?” Mycroft growled. “Give it to me. Now.” 

“It’s in my room.”

“All of it?” Mycroft asked. “Go. Get it.” He let go of Sherlock’s arm and moved to sit in front of the fire. “I will be waiting.” 

Huffing, Sherlock went to his room and retrieved the bottle from his dresser. Hesitating, he also took the bottle from behind the clock and brought them both down, setting them in front of his brother.

“Is that it all?” Mycroft asked, not bothering to look at him. 

“You’re disappointed.” Sherlock picked one bottle up and chucked it in the fire. “As always.”

“I'm disappointed because you know better than this.” 

“Isn’t that my job? Family disappointment?” He chucked the other bottle in after the first. “After all, I’m only an omega. I should know my place. That’s what Mum always told me.”

“You know that mother was a fool,” Mycroft said, listening to the bottles begin to pop. “And you know that that isn’t true.” 

Sherlock threw himself into his chair. “So. Lestrade?”

“What about him?” Mycroft asked. “He’s offered to work with you, and there will be case files delivered to the house for you to prove your worth.” 

“And you like him.”

“That doesn’t matter, Sherlock. When has anything I’ve liked matter?” 

“He likes you too.”

“Sherlock. Enough,” Mycroft sighed. “Please. It doesn’t matter. We’re married, remember?”

“In name.” Sherlock stood. “I’m going to bed. Feel free to search my room.” 

“And how else are all marriages but in name to begin with?” Mycroft asked. “What does choice matter? Goodnight, Sherlock.” 

“Goodnight Mycroft.” Sherlock retired, trying to think of how he could possibly get his brother some happiness.

**

Greg kept the omega close by him despite the stares of the rest of the yard. “Tell me what you see, Sherlock.”

Sherlock glanced around at the officers, and then changed his attention to the body. “Young, omega, bonded twice. Widow, robbed as she was heading to the cemetery to visit her first alpha whom she actually loved, current alpha was abusive. Robbery gone wrong, though you should still look into the alpha to ensure it wasn’t a murder.” 

“All right. Thank you, Sherlock.” Greg gestured at his men to remove the body.

Sherlock followed as Greg turned out of the alley. “You find my mate attractive,” he said quietly. 

Greg blinked. “You are observant. But I’ve no interest in getting in the way of your marriage.”

“And what if I said it wouldn’t?” Sherlock asked, watching as the lamps flickered on, lit one by one as the city worker walked down the damp streets. 

“What do you deduce of my marriage, Sherlock?”

“That it isn’t happy,” Sherlock said quietly. “That both parties stray….That your wife knows and does not care about your predilections.” 

Greg glanced around. “If I were caught, if your mate was caught… It’s dangerous.”

“But you still give in occasionally. Where it is safe. Where there are others like you.” 

Lestrade shifted his feet, anxious. “You’re not supposed to know about that. Does… anyone else know?” He glanced back towards where the other police worked.

“No. I see far more than I am supposed to, Lestrade. Haven’t you figured that out by now?” Sherlock turned to look at him. “But I’m just an omega. No one listens.” 

“I’m listening, aren’t I? Master Holmes listens, I’m certain.”

“Yes, but you are different,” Sherlock said quietly. “They don’t listen. They just ignore me.” 

“Well whatever you think you see between us, it’s not bloody likely to happen, er, pardon my language.”

“You never know until you try, Lestrade.” Sherlock leaned in, and whispered a single name in Greg’s ear, a place known only in a few circles. 

Greg swallowed. “All right. Well I need to get you in a carriage home. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Sherlock said.

**

A few hours later, nervous, Greg took a cab to near the place and then walked the rest of the way, not quite sure what to expect.

Mycroft slipped into the bath, alone, with a quiet sigh. This was a place that men like him could come to, to be alone or to meet others. And though he'd never met anyone, he still left his door open. Just in case. 

Greg was glad he’d changed into something more comfortable. If his career was known here, well, it wouldn’t go well. Some men sat together in the foyer, talking quietly. Hopeful but uncertain he kept walking and found himself in a hallway. Baths. He glanced in one open door and saw a group sitting together, talking quietly, touching, apparently ignorant of his presence. He considered going back and getting a drink, but there was another open door farther down the hall. Hesitating, he stepped forward and looked in, surprised to actually find Mycroft Holmes

Mycroft opened his eyes at the footsteps, staring in shock at Gregory Lestrade. 

Greg swallowed and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. Oddly there wasn’t much alpha scent in here. “May I join you?” He asked.

“Certainly,” Mycroft said quietly. 

Greg quickly stripped, putting his things in the cubbies, noticing Mycroft’s posh suit. He stepped to the bath and carefully got in opposite of Mycroft, giving him room if he needed it. The man was gorgeous, splash of red hair on his chest, pale skin shiny with sweat, even in the dim light. He looked younger here too, bared to the world.

“Sherlock sent you,” Mycroft said, a statement not a question. “What did he say?” 

“Only that it wouldn’t get in the way of your marriage. And a name.” He gestured around them to indicate the club.

“I see.” Mycroft wet his lips. “There is more….” 

“Is there? My own marriage isn’t an impediment.”

Mycroft hesitated. “You find me attractive.”

“Yes. Since the first,” said Greg honestly. “You’ve got amazing eyes.” 

“Quite a bit like Sherlock's, aren't they?” Mycroft asked. “Would you care to scent me?” 

“Yes. On both counts.” Greg moved closer, watching his face.

Mycroft offered his wrist. 

Greg drew it to his nose. “You don’t smell like an alpha,” he frowned. He looked back up and studied Mycroft’s face. “Are...you and Sherlock related?”

Mycroft only raised his eyebrows as he took away his wrist. “How could that be true? We’re married after all. Bonded.” 

“What’s marriage but paper? And you could still bite him. Wouldn’t have the same effect, but since when do either of you allow anyone to get close enough to notice?”

“Except for a certain inspector,” Mycroft said quietly. “Whom we’ve both put a great deal of trust in.” 

“I'm honored.” Greg touched his knee under the water. “Aside from my silence, what do you want from me? This doesn't have to change anything if you don't want it to. But you have a lovely smile.”

“It has been a very long time since I've found someone I could trust,” Mycroft replied. “And even longer since I've found someone as attractive as you.”

“May I kiss you, Holmes?”

“Mycroft. Not Holmes. Not if you wish to kiss me.” 

“Mycroft,” said Greg softly, as if whispering the name of a saint. He leaned into him. 

Mycroft cupped his face, kissing him gently.

Greg moaned softly, squeezing his knee. 

Moving his hand lower, Mycroft drew Greg closer, between his legs. “Gregory,” he murmured. “Keep kissing me.” 

Greg kept kissing, letting Mycroft guide him where he would. 

Mycroft held Greg close, running his hands over his back. 

Greg slid into his lap. “Beautiful.”

“Do you want to touch me?” Mycroft murmured, trailing his lips over Greg’s jaw. 

“You’re priceless,” whispered Greg, sliding his own hands down Mycroft’s sides.

“I am a beta. And I am lonely,” Mycroft admitted. “I crave intimacy.” 

“Then let me take care of you.” Greg kissed him deeply, rolling his hips.

“Yes,” Mycroft groaned, rocking up to meet him with a stuttered moan. “Gregory.”

“Do you want to be inside me, or should I take you? I could suck you off. God, Mycroft, you’re gorgeous, I want to do everything with you.”

“I don’t have to go home tonight,” Mycroft said. “We could have a room here.” 

“Would Sherlock worry? My wife wouldn’t.”

“He sent you here, he’ll know where I am,” Mycroft said, hardly believing what they were about to do. 

“Then let me take care of you.” Greg kissed him again, sliding his tongue along the seam of his lips.

Mycroft tightened his grip on Greg and opened to him with a quiet moan. 

“Gorgeous,” whispered Greg. “Here in the bath? Or shall we go to your room?”

“Don’t make me decide,” Mycroft breathed, sliding his hands down to grasp Greg’s arse. 

“Your room, then, so we don’t sully the waters.” He leaned in and nibbled his ear. “I want to make you cry out with pleasure.”

“God, Gregory.” Mycroft nodded, and they stood, Mycroft grabbing their belongings and leading Greg through the hall. 

They passed through a couple of doors and up some stairs to another part of the club. As they went down the hall, Greg could hear someone in the throes of passion. He shivered, anticipating, as Mycroft unlocked a door and let him inside.

Mycroft stepped in, shutting the door behind Greg. “The walls and doors are not as thick as I would like,” he said, wetting his lips. 

“I will have to smother your cries with kisses,” said Greg, gently pushing him back towards the large bed.

Mycroft went where he was guided, laying back and shedding his towel. 

Greg climbed over him, kissing him deeply, running his hands along damp skin.

Mycroft moaned, rolling them over to explore Greg for himself. 

“Yeah, go ahead,” said Greg, part of him barely believing this was happening.

Mycroft gave a hesitant smile and then dropped his head, marking Greg’s hip. 

Greg moaned. “Yes, Mycroft.”

Mycroft sank lower, nipping at the crease of Greg’s thigh and groin. 

Greg spread himself for him, moaning softly.

“What do you like?” Mycroft asked, running his hand up Greg’s side. 

“Either way. I like giving my partner pleasure.”

“Then what will you do to me?” Mycroft asked, looking up at him, wetting his lips. 

“There’s much I could do. Work you open until you’re a writhing mess, then take you so slowly you’re begging me for it?”

A lust fueled shudder ran through Mycroft's body, and he gave a quiet moan. “Gregory….” 

Greg kissed him and leaned over, pulling out the oil from the drawer. He rolled them over and kissed Mycroft again as he coated his fingers.

Mycroft spread his legs wantonly, grasping Greg’s shoulders. 

“Beautiful. Gorgeous,” murmured Greg teasing his rim and sucking a nipple into his mouth.

Mycroft moaned. “It's been too long,” he panted, pushing against Greg’s hand. 

“How long?” asked Greg.

“A decade,” Mycroft replied, trying to relax as Greg’s finger breached him.

“Too long. Not that long for me, I’m afraid.” Greg nuzzled his throat. 

“Far too long,” Mycroft agreed, tipping his head back. 

“Thank you for letting me touch you.”

“No. Thank you for doing so. I'm not the most attractive, and I've certainly a great deal of… ooohhh...baggage,” Mycroft said on a moan. 

“You’re a brave man, and a strong man.” Greg let his teeth drag across his skin.

“As are you. Please, Gregory, another. Stop taunting me.” 

Greg pushed a second finger into him, a little rough, pulling a small cry from him.

Mycroft arched slightly into the touch, eyes wide. “Yes, Gregory,” he said, as soon as he managed to breath again. 

Greg smiled at him, fingering him, smothering his cries as he pressed in a third finger.

“Please,” Mycroft repeated, panting as he caught Greg’s gaze. “I want you inside me.” 

Greg moved between his pale thighs, hitching up his legs as he coated his cock and lined up. He pressed in slowly, giving him time to adjust.

Mycroft reached out, wrapping his arms round Greg’s shoulders and his legs around his waist, pulling him in a bit faster, a bit rougher, wanton and wanting. 

Greg grinned and pushed in harder, faster.

Mycroft took it into his own hands to muffle himself, nipping at Greg’s collarbone to distract from the moans. 

“So hot,” growled Greg.

“You feel exquisite.” 

“As do you.” Greg moved faster, dropping a hand to stroke Mycroft, wanting to watch him fall apart.

Mycroft groaned, eyes dropping shut as he buried his face in Greg’s shoulder. 

“God Mycroft, you deserve so much. I want to touch you, hold you,” whispered Greg, plowing into him as he stroked Mycroft off.

“Yes, yes, all of it,” Mycroft gasped. 

“Tell me you're mine,” whispered Greg, nibbling on his shoulder.

“I am yours. Bite me, Mark me,” Mycroft mumbled. 

Greg bit down on his shoulder, knowing that it would be covered by his suits. He pounded into him almost like a wild creature in his chase for release.

Mycroft came with a shocked cry, loud even muffled. 

It only took another heartbeat for Greg to follow him over, gasping against his skin.

Heart pounding, Mycroft lay underneath Greg, panting for air. “Perfect.” 

“You’re staying right here in my arms tonight,” murmured Greg.

“God, yes please,” Mycroft replied, not ashamed of the pleased whimper he bit back. 

Greg kissed him and settled in to sleep, hopeful for what they were making together.

**

Mycroft stirred first the morning after, turning in Greg’s arms and kissing his cheek. “We need to leave,” he murmured, nuzzling against Greg’s throat. 

Greg stretched and sighed. “I know. When can I see you again?”

“Whenever we can. When it is safe,” Mycroft said, tucking closer to him, feeling their morning arousal pressing against each other. He rocked his hips, ever a gentle suggestion. 

Greg smiled and kissed him, taking them both in hand. “You have my card.”

“I have more than that now,” Mycroft replied, cupping his face. “Haven't I?” 

“You do.” Greg kissed him again.

“Then I have all I asked for.” 

Greg stroked them off quickly, knowing their time was running out. He kissed him again. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

“Yes,” Mycroft murmured, sated and sad as he pulled away from Greg to dress.

**

John got the omegas scent as soon as he stepped into the morgue, looking incredulously at the tall man, currently cropping a corpse.

Sherlock looked up and was caught by the sight and scent of the compact alpha. “Morning.”

“Morning...you're Sherlock Holmes?” John asked hesitantly. “Mike Stamford said you might know a place I could board at. I've just gotten back from India. Injured,” he explained. 

Sherlock quickly collected himself. “Yes. My mate and I have a spare room. You’re a doctor.”

“I was, yes,” John replied. “A spare room would be nice. I don’t have much from my pension, though.” 

“It’s fine. You can afford it. 221 Baker Street.”

“That’s it? Not even going to ask anything about me?” John asked, turning as Sherlock made to leave. 

“You were shot in the shoulder, your limp is in your head, you haven’t had a good solid meal in two weeks and you’re not even sure if you can still doctor,” said Sherlock, looking back and freezing as John stared.

“That’s….brilliant,” John breathed. “I just...how did you know all that?” 

Sherlock was aware of a bit of arousal in the room and was unsurprised when Stamford quickly made excuses and left. He just wasn’t sure if the arousal was from himself or him. This was going to be terrible trouble. Good. “Your shoulder in the way you carry your arm. You use a cane but the way you stand it’s as if you forget about it. You’re thin, though making some attempt to hide it and you have the hands of a surgeon but also a slight tremble. Also in your head.”

“I..John. John Watson. And I’d love to come see the room,” John said, deciding that he’d move in, even if the room was covered in roaches and mold. Anything to stay by this omega. This...bonded omega. “If you’re sure your mate won’t mind.” 

“He won’t. Care to come along now?”

“Certainly,” John said faintly, following Sherlock out. 

**

“Sir? Message for you.”

Mycroft took the paper, glancing over it briefly. “Thank you. Call the carriage, I’ll be heading home early.” 

**

Sherlock was just getting John settled when he heard the door open and knew that Mycroft was home. He went downstairs before Mycroft got too far into the house. “I found us a boarder.”

“An alpha boarder,” Mycroft said, raising his eyebrow, and leading Sherlock into the study. “I’d thought we agreed on an omega, or a beta. You know that having an alpha here is not going to go well, Sherlock. What if he finds out? Claims you properly?” he asked, lowering his voice. 

“Then we’ll deal with that when it comes.” Sherlock met his eyes. “How are things with the Inspector?”

Something sad flashed in Mycroft’s eyes. “Fine, thank you. We’ll discuss that at a later date.” 

“Did something happen?” Frowned Sherlock.

“Nothing, Sherlock. Simply society,” Mycroft replied. “He’s married. So am I. Stolen moments are not enough, sometimes.”

Sherlock squeezed his brother’s arm. There was the sound of footsteps on the stairs and he took a step back. “Doctor John Watson, this is Mycroft Holmes.”

“Hello, sir,” John said offering his hand. 

Mycroft shook. “I hear you’ll be joining us at Baker Street, Dr. Watson?” 

“Yes, I will. If that’s all right with you of course.” 

“Yes, of course it’s all right,” said Sherlock, giving Mycroft a look.

“Yes, that will be fine. The attic room is yours as you’ve already discovered I’m sure.” Mycroft smiled as there was a knock at the door. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Mycroft stepped out as the servant answered, eyes going wide. “Inspector Lestrade? Are you all right?” 

“I’m sorry for coming, I didn’t know where else to go. It appears that my wife has committed suicide.”

“Oh, gods man, come in,” Mycroft said, heart speeding up. “Here, to the study, I’ll get you some brandy.” 

Greg followed him in, taking a note from his pocket. “If she really did jump in the Thames we might not recover a body. But there’s no sign of her.” He handed the note to Mycroft.

Mycroft frowned, and glanced at the note. “I see. Come, we’ll head to your house and call the police over. This can be handled quietly, and then you can have time to mourn.” 

Greg nodded. “I thought we had a good arrangement,” he said quietly. “We both seemed content enough with how things were.”

“Gregory, where did you find this note?” Mycroft asked, leading him out to a waiting carriage.

“It was on the table by the door where I’d see it when I first walk in.” He rubbed his face. “You don’t think she did it?”

“I think that perhaps she’s run off,” Mycroft said gently. 

Greg resisted the urge to fold himself again Mycroft’s chest. “And this way I can be a widower and alone and nobody would question?”

“I think that, yes,” Mycroft nodded, reaching out for his hand as the carriage door closed. “It will all be all right, Gregory.” 

“So breaking my heart and saving it. That’s very her,” he said softly.

Mycroft squeezed his hand. “We’ll see when we get to your home.” 

“I trust you.”

Greg led Mycroft into the modest home. “The note was here,” he gestured at a table just inside the door.

“Did you have separate bedrooms?” 

“Yes, of course.” Greg led him upstairs and pushed open a door. “This is my wifes. We only have one servant and the girl doesn’t live here. Today is her day off.”

“Gregory, I want you to look carefully. What is missing?” Mycroft asked quietly. 

Greg took a deep breath and looked around. “Some of her jewelry.” He walked to her dresser and picked up her wedding ring. “And she left this.”

“Why would a woman leave her wedding ring but take her jewelery if she was going to kill herself?” 

Greg felt a weight lifted. He turned and did fold himself against Mycroft’s chest. “Thank you,” he breathed.

“Wherever she’s gone, it wasn’t your fault. I’m sure she’s happier.” 

“I hope so.” Greg took a deep breath and stepped back. “Still need to call the police and report it. But it appears I’m a widower now.”

“It appears so.” Mycroft nodded. “But before you do.” He pulled Greg back in, kissing him gently. “This will all pan out.” 

“I trust you.”

**

In the end it was really just a matter of paperwork. Greg got sympathy from the other police he worked with and accepted it. He did mourn, in a way, knowing he’d never see her again. Even if their marriage had been only in name he’d still held some affection for her.

After a few weeks of mourning, he came to Mycroft. “Seems the house is awful lonely. Thinking of selling it, boarding somewhere. My people would understand. If you know anywhere I might be able to board…”

“We do have another spare room,” Mycroft said quietly. “If you wished. It wouldn’t be questioned.” 

“I think I’d like that. Do you think your other boarder would… mind?”

“He doesn’t know about Sherlock and I, but I keep appearances up for the servants. I would do the same if you moved in.” 

“All right. It won’t be easy I know, but at least I could be with you, in a way.”

“Yes.” Mycroft smiled, glancing over to make sure the study door was closed before leaning in to kiss Greg. “When will you move in?”

“At the end of the week? That should give me time to make arrangements for the house. I may keep it and rent it with the furniture.”

“That sounds doable.” Mycroft stood and locked the study door, coming back to Greg and taking his hand. “Come here, Gregory. We have some time,” he said, laying down and pulling the other man to his chest. 

Greg sighed. “I do miss her. We were friends, at least.”

“Would you like me to look into it?” Mycroft asked gently. 

“Could you? I just want to know she’s okay.”

“Of course,” Mycroft said. 

Greg leaned in to kiss him, but just then there was a knock on the door.

Mycroft gave him a disappointed sigh, and sat up quickly, putting some space between them, just in case. “Yes?” 

“Sorry Master Holmes,” said John. “There’s someone here who says they need to speak with you urgently.”

“It’s all right.” Mycroft stood, and went to the door. 

John stepped back as Mycroft came out, giving Greg a small smile. “Doctor Watson? I don’t think we’ve properly met,” said Greg.

“Yes, hello.”

“Inspector Lestrade will be boarding with us as well starting next week,” Mycroft explained. “He is Sherlock’s contact at Scotland Yard.” 

“Pleased to meet you,” said Greg, shaking his hand.

John smiled. “Glad to have another face around.” 

Mycroft looked up as a servant stepped in. “Sir? She’s getting rather impatient.”

“Of course. Excuse me, Inspector, Doctor.” 

Anthea was waiting for him, not quite pacing. “Sir.”

“What is it, Anthea? Where am I headed?” 

“Germany, to start.” She handed him a folder. 

“To start?” Mycroft opened and began to leaf through the papers, frown deepening. 

“Is there an issue?”

“No...Sherlock’s heat is due, though.” 

Anthea glanced at the stairs. “I understand you have boarders now. You could warn them.”

“I’ll speak with Gregory. See that Sherlock is watched,” Mycroft said. “Taken care of if he wishes. I will depart in the morning. Have things ready, please?” he asked, handing the file back. 

“Of course, sir.”

Mycroft nodded as she left and then turned to go to Sherlock.

Sherlock looked up from his experiment as Mycroft stepped in. “You’re leaving.”

“I am. Germany to start.” Mycroft took a seat on Sherlock’s bed. “I'll renew the bite before I go, but your heat is coming up….” 

Sherlock hesitated. “Must you renew the bite?”

“Sherlock you know I have to,” Mycroft said quietly. “You have to be bonded. I am aware that you've been...showing interest in our Doctor, but for now, yes I must.” 

“And when I go into heat while you’re gone?”

“That is your choice. You either ride it out alone, ask Gregory for help, or you risk telling John. Risk losing everything. Your freedom, my power, our money. It is your choice.” Mycroft stood. “You know I will go with whatever you decide. I'll come to you tonight for the bite. I leave in the morning.” 

Sherlock looked back at his experiment. “Very well,” he said quietly.

Mycroft set a hand on his shoulder and then took his leave. 

**

When Mycroft came that night, Sherlock barely reacted as Mycroft bit down, the false bite burning all the worse with the fact that he knew that the one Mycroft loved was just down the hall, but they still had to keep up this pretense. He was glad he’d had a hand in bringing them together, but he still ached for things Mycroft could never give and when he dreamed it was often of the blue eyes of Doctor Watson.

Mycroft lapped up the blood, bile turning in his stomach. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked quietly. 

“There’s no need,” said Sherlock in a carefully controlled voice. “I know Lestrade is waiting for you.”

“But you are here too,” Mycroft said. “I know you hate this, brother.”

“As you so frequently point out, this is how it must be.” Sherlock tried to keep the bitterness from his voice. 

“I'm only trying to keep you safe, ‘Lock,” Mycroft murmured. He pulled away, pressing a kiss to Sherlock’s brow. “I love you, brother,” he said, stepping out, and shutting the door behind him. 

Sherlock turned his head to the pillow and bit back a sob, knowing it wouldn’t do any good at all to cry, though he wanted to anyway. The world wasn’t fair and that wasn’t going to change just for two lost Holmses.

Mycroft slipped into his own bed, and into the arms of Greg with a slight tremble, tucking his face to the betas chest. 

“Are you okay?” Asked Greg softly. 

Mycroft shook his head. “No. But I’ll be fine in a bit,” he said quietly 

“Sherlock loves you too, in his own way. He understands. And I’ll watch out for him.”

“I know.” Mycroft nuzzled into his neck gently. “Everytime I bite him...It’s hard for both of us.” 

“Has it got worse over time?” asked Greg carefully.

“Yes.” Mycroft looked up at him. “How do you know?” 

Greg kissed him gently. “I’ve heard of cases of male betas with male omegas. You know it’s frowned on if they can’t breed. Like us.” He wove his fingers in Mycroft’s. “It never goes well for the omega in the end. I mean, I don’t know for sure that it happens every time, but early in my career I had an omega death… and it turned out that their partner of many years was actually beta. Many years, Mycroft, like, almost a lifetime, so don’t panic on me. But the beta was convicted of his omegas murder based on evidence. Of which all there really was, was his bite. He didn’t do a thing to fight the charges. Committed suicide not long after being locked up, well, they said it was suicide.”

“I’ve never heard of this,” Mycroft said, taking a deep breath and tightening his grip on Greg. “It’s hurting him? The bite?” 

“It could be. From what I understand of it, it’s like a slow poison. Instead of an omegas chemicals mixing with that of an alpha, they have nowhere to go. That is not to say that you’re killing him, Mycroft. I only know of the one case that resulted in death and that was from, as I said, nearly a lifetime.”

“Oh god.” Mycroft pulled away, sitting up, starting to shake. “It’s hurting him. I could be killing him.” 

“I did say not to panic.” Greg put his arms around him. “I’m sure we can find a solution to all of this. Now I know you’re going to be away for a time, so that will help. And you only bite him when absolutely necessary, not like it happens all the time. You’re only trying to protect him, Mycroft.” Greg kissed his temple, not mentioning that he was also protecting himself. He knew Mycroft would never bite him again if he thought he’d be killing Sherlock in the end, no matter what it might do to his own freedoms. “And since you are leaving in the morning I want you to get some sleep. You can’t be worrying about this the whole time you’re gone. I’m here. Doctor Watson is here. He’ll be safe.”

Mycroft nodded, taking a deep breath, clutching Greg’s arms. “You’re sure it won’t have harmed him yet?” 

“I’m sure, love.” Greg kissed his temple, trying to sooth him.

The door pushed open without a knock. “Mycroft, are you okay?” Sherlock stood in the doorway, robe falling off his shoulders.

Mycroft swallowed hard. “I am fine, brother mine,” he said shakily. 

Sherlock stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, locking it, though he didn’t think Doctor Watson would come knocking unless he was certain something was wrong. “I can smell you panicking, Mycroft, what happened?” He frowned at Greg, looking between them.

“Gregory informed me of a certain fact, little known, about what happens when a male beta and male omega bond,” Mycroft replied, looking over at his brother. 

“Something not good, I take it,” said Sherlock, came over and sat on the edge of the bed.

“It’s not good for an omega to be bitten by a beta,” said Greg. “Because your body doesn’t know what to do with itself.”

Sherlock nodded. “Which is why it hurts.”

“It hurts beyond the bite itself?” Mycroft asked suddenly. “Sherlock, why didn’t you say anything?” 

“It’s not that bad,” he said quietly, lying. “And I know you’re trying to keep me safe.”

“Don’t lie, Sherlock,” Mycroft said, sagging back against Greg. “That’s why you take the drugs. Isn’t it? You really were taking them for the pain.”

Sherlock bit his lip, looking away. “You have enough to worry about, My.”

Mycroft reached out without a word, pulling Sherlock to him. “We’ll find another way,” he murmured. “We’re done. We’re going to stop this.” 

“I want to keep you safe too,” said Sherlock, curling up in his arms.

Greg kissed the top of one head, then the other. “I’ll go make you two some tea. Do you want me here tonight?”

The brothers both nodded, laying down, still twined together. 

Greg ran into John near the stairs. “Everythings, fine Doctor Watson.”

“Right, right. Was just getting some water,” John said, glancing him over. “Nothing wrong with Sherlock, right? I know they’re trying to get him to catch.” 

“No, they’re fine. Sherlock’s just worried about Mycroft leaving,” he said, finding it an easy lie. “Just making them some tea.”

“Oh, good,” John relaxed and nodded. “I’m heading back to bed. Goodnight, Inspector.”

John went back down the hall, only giving a small thought to why Greg had been in the room with them, but deciding it was better to let some things lie.

**

Mycroft left early the next morning, things still undecided between them, other than Mycroft again promising Sherlock he wouldn’t bite him anymore.

Sherlock stayed mostly at home, though he did help out Greg from time to time. But as he expected, his heat was soon coming on and he retreated to his room.

John stepped in after another day of hunting for a job and failing, only to be hit with the scent of omega in heat. Greg was sitting at the table, and beckoned him over. 

“Should I leave?” John asked, mouth and throat dry.

Greg rubbed a hand through his hair. “You need to know some things. And those two are so stubborn they might not tell the truth. Sit down, please. Hopefully they forgive me for telling you.”

John frowned, and then sat, unable to stop his body reacting from the scent filling the home, the distant, muffled noises Sherlock was making. 

Greg took a deep breath. “This can go no farther than this house, John. It would ruin lives if it did.”

John nodded slowly. “Why do I feel as though whatever you’re going to tell me isn’t going to be welcome?” 

“It depends on you, really.” Greg took another breath. “Mycroft isn’t an alpha. And Sherlock isn’t really his mate.”

“What? But he smells like an alpha? And their scents are mingled,” John said, sitting back. “How?” 

“They’re brothers. Mycroft has been passing as an alpha in an attempt to keep Sherlock safe.” Greg already knew he’d be writing Mycroft a letter confessing that he’d had this conversation, in as couched language as he could, hoping for forgiveness.

“They’re...brothers. But the bite?” John asked. “How are they bonded?”

“It’s not a true bond. It’s only for appearances. Mycroft told me the story once, of exactly why, but right now you have a choice to make. You could go to him. I know he’s been watching you and you him. He’s never truly lain with an alpha. And Mycroft says he will not bite him again, afraid of hurting him. Or you could leave. But if you do leave I’d beg you to keep the secret.”

“I..if I go to him now, it's wrong,” John said. “I don't know if he wants me.” 

“He stole one of your pillows as soon as it hit.”

John took a moment, and then wet his lips. “The servants are gone, it’s just you?” he confirmed, standing quickly. “We...it won’t get out?” 

“I would do anything to keep this family safe.”

“I’m gonna go to him,” John nodded, and turned down the hall and up the stairs. He tried Sherlock’s door, finding it unlocked and opening it, getting hit with a wave of scent. “Oh god. Sherlock,” he breathed. “Sherlock, do you...I know. Do you want me?” he asked, gripping the doorframe, seeing the omega rutting against his pillow. “Sherlock.” 

Sherlock opened his eyes, just barely. John. “John,” he whimpered, hips still rutting, three fingers inside himself. “Please.”

John groaned, shutting and locking the door behind him, cock pressing against his trousers as he stripped. “Sherlock,” John said, stumbling over to the bed, pushing him onto his back and climbing atop him. “My omega.” 

“Alpha, alpha please.” Sherlock spread his legs for him, pulling his fingers free. 

John gave a possessive growl, and nipped at Sherlock’s neck, pinning him. He knocked his thighs wider apart and then pushed, breaching the omega fast and hard. 

Sherlock cried out, full for the first time, almost too much and still not quite enough. He muffled his cries against John's shoulder, overwhelmed by the powerful alpha and his scent. 

“Shhh, shh,” John soothed, thrusting in a steady, claiming rhythm. “Good omega,” he crooned. 

Sherlock relaxed incrementally, panting against John. He could feel the knot pressing against him and offered his throat on instinct. 

John bit, instinct overwhelming him as he knotted Sherlock with a groan. 

Sherlock’s mouth fell open in a silent scream. But it wasn't pain this time, but pleasure. Better than the drugs, better than anything he'd ever imagined. It washed everything away. All the pain, all the fear. He found himself floating in a sea of pleasure, vaguely aware he’d come, more aware that his alpha was pumping him full of seed. Breed. Good omega.

John felt Sherlock go lax beneath him, and he lay them down, still thrusting lazily as he lapped over his bondmark. “Mine,” he murmured, nuzzling against his throat. “My omega. Bond, breed. Mine.” 

“Yours. Only yours.”

John sighed, stroking his hand over Sherlock’s belly and then tucking Sherlock to his chest, wrapped them in blankets. “Sleep.” 

**

“Sir. A letter has arrived from your boarder,” Anthea said. 

Mycroft nodded and accepted it. “Is this the last meeting?” 

“Yes sir.”

Mycroft sighed and stepped in. “Gentlemen.” 

A few hours later, Mycroft was able to open the letter, sitting down on his bed.

Master Holmes,

I hope this letter finds you well. There has a been a bit of excitement here. All is well but there is a possibility your omega may be pregnant. Doctor Watson is particularly excited. Mistress Holmes is staying home for now and I'm bringing cases so he doesn't have to over excite himself. Doctor Watson is taking good care of Mistress Holmes and they have grown close. But do not worry. I am watching over your house and family. 

G. Lestrade

Mycroft sat back in shock. If Sherlock was pregnant, then it meant he had slept with an alpha. And it had to be John, if they were growing “close”. No one else would have been able to get to him. If Sherlock was staying home, it meant that there was a reason to keep him there. Such as a true bond, something that had changed his scent. Something he’d find only with an alpha. With John. 

Mycroft stood, going to find Anthea, and see just how fast he could get home. 

**

Greg met Mycroft at the station. “Master Holmes, welcome home.” He got the carriage door for him. 

Mycroft settled in, waiting until they were moving to reach out and close the carriage curtains, pulling Greg to him for a desperate kiss. “Gregory,” he said in a low whisper as they broke apart. “John and Sherlock? Did they…and pregnant?”

Greg nodded. “I gave John permission in his heat. Didn't realize they'd bond and this too. If you want to blame anyone, it's me.” He held Mycroft's hand. 

“No, no I don’t blame you, I just...I don’t know what we’ll do now.” 

“I have an idea. It'll cause a scandal, but I think you both can weather it.”

Mycroft frowned. “I’m listening,” he said quietly. 

Greg kept his voice low. “You've been gone some time. So we tell the truth. While you were gone your omega and trusted boarder fell into congress. You have no choice but to separate from your omega and send them away. I, grieving widower that I am, stay with you to see you through this time. John and Sherlock could set up in another part of town. There will be scandal but I know Sherlock cares little for his reputation and yours will be barely smirched. Mine and John's will take a small hit. By the time the child is born it will have mostly passed. You can ‘reconcile’ by the time the child is born with hardly a huff. Yes, I've been thinking about this.”

Mycroft nodded. “Yes….That could work. And no one would be the wiser.” 

“If anyone questions the reconciliation, well there's some question of paternity. Everyone knows you've been trying for a child.” Greg smiled. “Not as smart as you or Sherlock but I have my moments.”

“God, you do,” Mycroft said, pulling Greg to him for a grateful kiss. “Not as if there is any magical way to tell who the child belongs to in any case.” He smiled. “I’ve missed you, Gregory.” 

“I’ve missed you too. So much. John’s been fretting, but I bet you can find him a suitable position in another part of town. I told him if you were angry with anyone it should be me.”

“I’m not angry with anyone,” Mycroft said, sitting back. “To be honest, I...I am relieved.” He reached out and squeezed Greg’s hand. 

“You’ll still have to play the alpha most everyone knows you as, but you don’t have to bite anyone anymore.”

“I don’t have to hurt him anymore. It’s worth playing alpha,” Mycroft said. “He’ll be happy. I’ll be happy.”

“We can all be happy, less a little scandal,” smiled Greg. “It’ll all be okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can find us on AO3 at [Janto321 ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/)and [HumsHappily](http://archiveofourown.org/users/humshappily) or on tumblr at [merindab ](http://merindab.tumblr.com)(janto321) and [HumsHappily](http://hums-happily.tumblr.com)


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